C.J. Sansom - Revelation

The men who had run out returned with buckets of water and torches. They lit the plain whitewashed interior of the church, the black thing chained to the pillar. They threw the water over Yarington, and the flames went out with a sizzle and a hiss. Thin trails of smoke now began to rise from parts of the body. Sir Thomas Seymour stepped boldly forward and looked into the burned face. 'He's dead,' he said. He stepped back. 'Ugh, he stinks.'

I looked at Yarington's body slumped in its chains, the white clothes melted into burnt flesh. Someone turned away to vomit. Even Barak, whose stomach was of iron, looked pale. It was not just the sight, but the smell, roasted flesh mixed with that stink of rotten fish. I looked at the floor. There were spots of some thick liquid there. I bent and hesitantly put my finger to one of them, lifting it and sniffing hesitantly.

'Fish oil,' I said quietly. 'He was covered in fish oil, probably the oil from those great fishes that is being sold everywhere.' I turned to Harsnet. 'That was the fuel.' I looked again at the face, though my stomach heaved. The gag was burned into his face now. The cottar Tupholme had been gagged. I guess that Yarington had been drugged, was unconscious when he was brought in here and chained to the pillar. He would have woken with a shock to find himself on fire.

Around us people were speaking in horrified whispers, clinging to each other, women crying. Harsnet looked at the body of the vicar, taking deep breaths. Quietly, he quoted from the Book of Revelation:

'And the fourth angel poured out his vial upon the sun; and power was given unto him to burn men with heat of fire.'

Barak walked over to the side door and pulled at the handle, confirming it was locked. Already I could see the familiar picture: Yarington overpowered somewhere, rendered unconscious, the killer using the vicar's own keys to lock them both inside the church, then escaping through the side door when poor Yarington was set alight, locking it after him.

'The killer knew we would be here,' I said. 'How could he know that?'

'Jesu, he's right,' Harsnet said. 'This spectacle was meant for us as well as the churchpeople. But it cannot be coincidence that we are here too. My vicar. My poor vicar.' Tears started to his eyes.

'Taunting us,' I said bitterly. 'Again. Playing with us, showing we are helpless.'

Someone stepped forward to try and loosen the chains, but when he touched the metal he pulled his hand away with a yelp. It was still burning hot. Meaphon stepped forward. He took off his cassock and threw it gently over Yarington's ruined head.

Harsnet looked round at the shocked congregation. 'Listen to me, all of you!' he said. 'I will investigate this outrage, the murderer will be caught! But until then say nothing - nothing - of what has happened here tonight! It would only give comfort to our enemies.'

There were murmurs from the crowd.

'Nothing, do you hear! If this news spread it could cause a panic.

We are all under threat enough!' Harsnet's west country accent was prominent. 'Finch, I make you responsible for people keeping silence until I return. Bring down the minister's poor body when the chains have cooled enough.' Harsnet turned back to Sir Thomas and Barak and me. 'Come,' he said quietly. 'All of you. We must see the Archbishop at once.'

ARCHBISHOP CRANMER was with Lord Hertford when we arrived at Lambeth Palace. We were sent in, though again Barak had to wait outside.

The Archbishop looked dog-tired. He was unshaven, black stubble covering his sallow cheeks. Lord Hertford stood by his side. The Archbishop waved to us to sit.

'So there has been another?' Hertford said. I saw he looked afraid.

'Yes, my lord,' Harsnet replied. He told the story of what had happened at the church.

Cranmer sat silent a moment, then said, 'Poor creature. I pray that after his terrible sufferings he is now in Heaven.' He turned to Hertford. 'Each killing is more spectacular than the last. If this goes on, the whole affair cannot fail to become public'

'Can it be kept quiet?' Hertford asked. His tone was sharp, his expression intent. He seemed more in control than Cranmer.

'I have spoken to Yarington's congregation,' Harsnet said. 'Sworn them to silence. I have left Reverend Meaphon in charge there. I will go back when I leave here, have the body removed and make the point once more that if Yarington's killing becomes known that can only benefit Bonner.'

'No public inquest again,' Hertford said.

'We are interfering with the course of the law,' Cranmer replied. 'But we have no alternative if we are to keep this quiet. Where will he strike next?' he burst out in sudden anger. 'And how was he able to get Yarington inside the church and make this terrible display without anyone seeing?' He looked at me.

'I think the killer did the same as with Dr Gurney and Master Elliard,' I said. 'Invited Yarrington to some meeting point, drugged him with dwale, used his key to open the church and tie him up during the day, then locked the door and waited until the gathering outside had started before setting light to the fish oil he had obtained.'

'It is just as well we were there,' Harsnet said. 'The sight of poor Yarington burning in the church, without any apparent fuel or smoke, made me think it was the devil's work. If we had not been able to calm the congregation somewhat I think they would be running through the streets crying the devil had done this. Though I'm not sure they would have been wrong,' he added quietly.

Hertford looked at me with a penetrating gaze. 'We have to stop him,' he said. 'Bonner and Gardiner are still questioning the courtiers and the Archbishop's staff that were taken last week. They have found nothing, but they will keep pressing.'

'That will not be enough for the King to act against us,' his brother said. 'And I hear the London butchers are all saying they cannot remember to whom they sold meat in Lent.'

For once Hertford nodded in agreement with Sir Thomas. 'That is true. And I think Bonner is hesitating to arrest too many people. He was booed at London Wall yesterday.' I looked at him. So they knew about that. Hertford continued: 'And the King will not be satisfied with evidence concocted out of half-truths and rumours to link you with the radicals. He loves you more than any man. Hold to that, my lord.'

Cranmer sighed deeply. 'That was what they said about Cronv well and Wolsey. Watch the King for me, Edward, watch who is going in and out of the Privy Chamber, who is whispering in his ear.'

'I will.'

There was a moment's silence.

'May I, my lord?' I reached across and took a blank sheet of paper from the Archbishop's desk. I had to try to make some order out of this chaos. Cranmer waved a hand in assent. I wrote quickly, the others watching in silence. Then I laid my work on the desk. They all leaned forward to see what I had written:

VIAL 1: An infected sore

Tupholme - Cottar - radical reformer turned sinner -January (killed December?)

VIAL 2: Death in salt water Dr Gurney - Doctor — radical reformer turned moderate — February 20th

VIAL 3: Death in fresh water Roger Elliard — Lawyer — radical reformer turned moderate - March 25th

VIAL 4: Death by fire Rev. Yarington — Cleric — radical reformer — April 3rd

VIAL 5: Death in darkness and great pain

VIAL 6: River dries up

VIAL 7: Great earthquake

'He is speeding up,' Hertford said quietly.

'I think it is Goddard,' Harsnet said. 'Dean Benson and the man Lockley are hiding something about him, I am sure. I will have them questioned tomorrow. We should bring the men and subject them to stiff questioning in your prison, my lord.'